


Black Hat's Wedding

by MarquessBrie



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Death, F/M, Jealousy, Urination, Violence, Vore, soul vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 06:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12227190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarquessBrie/pseuds/MarquessBrie
Summary: When a demon falls in love...





	Black Hat's Wedding

She was beautiful. In the fashion of the Venus of Willendorf, all voluptuous curves and ruddy flesh, barely contained by a paltry excuse for matromonial garb.

To be fair, given how often they were held in churches, he hadn't been exposed to as many examples of wedding dresses in his eons as others might have been, but he felt he had a right to judge. The dress was shabby compared to the lovely creature it was meant to frame. The sun shone off of short tight, dark curls before the gossamer veil was lifted up and over them…

By someone who wasn't him.

The hand was not the dull color of a cloudy night. The clothes were not an impeccably kept, bespoke four piece suit of pitch black, dull gray, blood and crimson (they are very different shades of red, and he would be happy to illustrate for you in just what way), complete with top hat, long coat and spats. His height was not an imposing 6 feet, 6.6 inches (including hat), his build was not lithe and inhumanly flexible, and his smile was not composed of razor-sharp daggers tinged a sickening pale green. 

The sun was shining. The birds were singing. It was a beautiful day. On days like these, monsters like him liked to crash outdoor weddings.

The ceremony was just wrapping up. Speakers which had been set up so the gathered could better hear everything repeated, offset from one another, “...Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

He flexed his hand a snarl tainting his cruel smile as his fingers transformed into crueler talons. He unceremoniously sliced a few of the poor guests in the rearmost rows to ribbons. “I object,” he stated simply voice loud enough without amplification to carry all the way to the couple. The blood and the screams flowed freely as the chunks of former people dropped wetly to the ground. He licked the ichor from his claws and continued on looming larger, unfolding himself and ending people as he approached the makeshift altar.

It would do.

The congregation broke and fled in all directions, but he paid most no heed. The officiant was trembling, and a damp spot spread from the crotch of his trousers as he held up a cheap cross, trying to ward off Black Hat's wrath. The Man Who Was Not Him was trying to lead the Bride off to safety, tugging her hands futilely, but she was petrified, eyes like saucers in her cherubic countenance, unable to look away from his demonic glory.

His snarl lessened. He was honestly pleased she was so enraptured with him. His steady approach, and absent-minded slaughter of all in his path brought him ever nearer to the object of his desires. The Fool Who Was Not Him suddenly obstructed his view of the Bride, though, and his disgust and disdain came back in full force.

His eyes slid to the officiant, though, and an oily charm smoothed his features. “Have they completed their vows, Father?” Black Hat asked, myriad voices giving an affectation of polite inquiry. 

The writhing tentacles of his unfurled form lowered and stilled as if he were politely withdrawing Hell in order that the pastor might answer his question with fewer distractions. The confusion that infused the terrified determination on his face was delicious as he slowly nodded.

Black Hat's smile grew impossibly wide, splitting his face in two. He erupted in a writhing mass of saws, blades, tentacles and armatures, easily knocking the petty symbol of faith out of the hand of the Man of God and away from them as he fell on the three.

“Till death do you part.”

He was not gentle or quick as he dismembered the men, joint by joint. Each sick, wet snap of sinew separating from bone echoed in the eye-dotted darkness of the enveloping monster. The desperate, agonized cries of the Man of God and the Man Who Was Not Him were choked off by thick tentacles which had rapidly inserted themselves in their mouths and throats. These appendages were now holding the men still as knives and claws ripped their chests open to yank out their ribs.

The Bride, the lovely creature which had so captured his imagination, had curled up into as small a ball as she could manage, unmolested by the demon's cruel touch as of yet. She looked even more radiant soaked in the blood and bile of his other victims, flecked with chips of their bones. 

After two hollow, wet crunches, there was eerie silence. For several minutes, nothing happened. The sounds of the park returned. Birds were even chirping again. 

She slowly opened her eyes and removed trembling hands from her ears. She took a deep breath and smelled only freshly cut grass, not the copper tang of blood or the foul stench of burst guts. She pushed herself off the ground and looked around, to find a dark gray suede gloved hand offered to her.

She took it on reflex, and was helped up by something that looked like a man with skin the color of a cloudy night, dressed in a stylish long coat and top hat. His mouth was filled with pale green, razor-sharp teeth and had a bit of similarly colored drool spilling out of it's corner. One eye was covered by a monocle, the other watched her with reverence.

She couldn't look away. Her eyes were glassy, dull, all the intelligence had left with the lives of her guests.

“My dear, you are stunning,” the demon purred, only a single voice emanating from his throat now. “Would you do me the honor of becoming mine?”

She stared dumbly, uncomprehending, as slowly her eyes focused on him, actually seeing him. He'd asked her a yes or no question. She nodded uncertainly, eyes slipping off to try to get a grip on her surroundings before a gentle hand caught her chin, directing her face back to his, as an arm snaked around to the small of her back, pressing her to him

“You have no idea how happy that makes me,” Black Hat crooned adoringly, before puckering his lips. He leaned in, and she leaned away, but proximity was merely a formality for this process. 

She could see her breath… it was summer, though! She could see a fine mist swirling out of her mouth and nostrils and flowing into the demon's mouth. It poured out of her, out of sync with her breathing, and she made a dim note that she couldn't feel her toes. Or her fingers, for that matter.

For some reason, she was feeling more and more claustrophobic. As if she were being pressed into a space which was much too tight for her. She lost sensation in her extremities as the oppressive feeling grew. Her legs gave out, but the steel grip of the monster's arm held her upright. She was starting to panic, but her numb limbs wouldn't respond to her urges. The blue tinge to the mist emanating from her mouth was becoming more apparent as the speed at which it swirled out of her and into him increased. She was hyperventilating for a few moments before her chest went numb, too.

The last of the mist rushed out of her as her eyes lost focus for the last time. Black Hat licked his lips, satisfied with this outcome. “You taste divine, Anna. I hope you enjoy your new home. You'll be here for a very long time.” He spoke softly, almost to himself as he arranged the fresh, unharmed corpse artfully on the altar, displaying her voluptuous beauty for the first responders.

He was the only one who could hear the new voice added to the chorus of screams within him. 

He had quite the lovely choir if he did say so himself.


End file.
